My Mere Existence
by Mayuen
Summary: Ivan moves to a silent, unknown house to try to escape his marks of existence. But this house holds secrets of its own, long gone given up to tell anyone about them. Will he, the one trying to escape existence, be told about the forgotten one?
1. Welcome here

_Existence._

_What is it, exactly? What is the definition of this little word that seems to mean so much? Does it mean that you leave a mark in history? The proof of that you once walked the simple hills of life? That you were here, laughing, crying and living – that you were **existing?**_

_But what if no one ever noticed you were there? Never showing a trace of acknowledge? If no one ever recognized your face, saw that small smile on your lips or the single tear rolling down your cheek? _

_Were you even there then?_

_Was I even there?_

The house was beautiful in its simplicity. Dark with white details on the windows and the door, with a garden which didn't show much but had a magnificent maple tree, the leaves with the typical autumn tint of orange. It was like the house knew that it was nice, and simply harmonized with the surroundings and didn't stand out, it knew it didn't need anything special to show it was there – it simply was there.

The young man silently watched the house from the road. Probably the only positive with all of this moving around was finding these hidden places, he thought. He started walking the trail up to the house, searching around his pockets for the keys the eccentric man had given him not so long ago. Still looking up at the house, he noticed one of the windows were open, one of the curtains slowly moving in the breeze. A shiver went down his spine, and he pulled the scarf around his neck a bit closer, unlocking the door. It was like a chilly presence flied past him.

He stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. It was rather chilly in there, and some of the dust moved around from the wind he made when he opened the door, which made him sneeze. Putting down the bag he had been holding on a chair, he looked around the house a little. It wasn't that big, but it wasn't small either. No signs of any of the older owners. Walking around some more, he came to the conclusion that it surely was a nice house even on the inside.

Entering the room with the open window. It was a bed room, one regular sized bed where placed in one of the corners. No signs of any of the older owners, which he though, was rather weird. He shivered again. Wonder how long this window have been open, went through his mind and he closed it. The view from the window was rather nice, showing a clear view of the maple tree outside, really nice to look at while doing homework. The room itself wasn't that bad either, not that much different from an ordinary bedroom but it had this calm feeling the rest of the house also seemed to have. Something he really needed more then everything right now. A calm place, away from everything.

"Well, I guess this will be my home from now on then." he said quietly to himself.

Weird, did he just feel a breeze?

* * *

><p>I sat on the windowsill and watched the man study the house, in return I studied him back. He wasn't really a man, he didn't feel like he was that old, but he wasn't a little boy. A young man was probably the closest description you could get. He was really tall, and wore a brown coat with a beige scarf around his neck. His ash blonde hair moved briefly in the wind and his eyes were dark blue, no, they were almost purple. Eyes that had seen a bit to much during his life. Things you weren't meant to see, no matter your age. Funny how much you can see when you don't exist yourself.<p>

He started to walk towards the house, so I stepped, or flew, I am not really sure, down from the windowsill to go downstairs to take a closer look at this young man. Out of curiosity I guess, it hasn't been anyone here for a while now except for that eccentric man who kept on coming here now and then, he always looked over his shoulder when he was here. Rather strange, it is not like he had company with him.

I took the last step down the stairs when he closed the frontdoor, some dust moved around because of the wind which made him sneeze. "Bless you" I said, forgetting for a second I wasn't really there with him. He didn't answer, well, I am not surprised.

He put down his bag on one of the chairs and started to walk around the house, studying it from the inside. I followed him around, because honestly what else should I do? He seemed to like the house, which was nice I guess, I didn't really know. It did make me feel kind of happy though, for no logical reason.

Lastly he entered the room I had been sitting on the windowsill first, the bedroom of the house. He shivered a little and closed the window. I guess it let it a bit to much of the autumn cold, but it was rather sad that I couldn't sit on the windowsill now, but the coldness had been starting to bug me too.

"Well, I guess this will be my home from now on then." he said after a while, thinking loud.

"Welcome here then" I answered, forgetting again he couldn't hear me. I didn't even notice the trace of happiness in my voice.

* * *

><p><strong>This is pretty much my first fanfic, and I am not a native english speaker, so please consider this while reading. <strong>

**If you find anything weird please tell me ^^ I am open to constructive criticism!**


	2. Welcome back

Here, finally, is Chapter 2 of "My Mere Existence". I am terribly sorry for being so slow at updating, and I can't even promise that Chapter 3 will be uploaded any faster, but I will try. A big thank you for all of you reading this.

As before, constructive criticism are welcome but please have in mind that I am not a native English speaker, thank you.

You get quite used to a house after a while, the man thought, looking around the room he was using as his bedroom. One week had past since he moved in this hidden treasure, which was what he liked to call this house. His thoughts about this house had not changed after this week living in it. He had at some times sensed something weird in the house, but he had just shrugged it of, thinking it was just him not being used to the surroundings.

He had managed to unpack most of his things, and there were just a few boxes left in the hallway. It wasn't much, bit it still took some time to find a new place for everything once again. But he was quite surprised over the lack of things left from the people before him who had lived in the house. In every other house he had lived in, there were always something left as a memory from any of the previous owners.

Still deep in though, the man moved down his sight once again to the paper laying in front of him on the desk. A letter with just one sentence, carefully written on the first line. Every time he thought of writing more, every time he failed and just wrote that one little sentence. He sighed and put the pencil down and leaned backwards in the chair. I guess I'll just try to write more later, he thought, turning his head towards the window once again. The maple tree outside sure was beautiful, even though many of the leafs had already fallen of.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took a while for him to recognize the knocking on the door. In a fast motion he hid the paper laying on his desk and stood up to walk to the front door.

"Oh, good day Mr. Braginsky. I was beginning to think you weren't home" the man known as 'the eccentric man' said after being stopped with his hand in a mid-air position, meant to knock for another time. "May I come in?" he continued.

"Just call me Ivan" Ivan answered, taking a glance at the other man's still raised hand, but quickly decided to ignore it and opened the door more to let the man walk in.

"It seems you have made yourself quite comfortable in here" the man then said, looking around the hallway. "I guess so" Ivan said in return, not really knowing how to act around this... special housekeeper. The housekeeper stared out in the emptiness for a while, before turning back to face Ivan, saying. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. I am fairly sure you told me before moving in here that you have no income for the moment, correct?"

"Correct, I have not had any time yet to search for a job"

"That is understandable" the man finally took down his hand to reach from one of his pockets. He took out a piece of paper. "Here is the number for the cafe close to the train station. They told me a while ago they were in need for some assistance, and I thought you maybe would be interested. It is not a great job, but it is a steady income. You may of course decline this offer if you think it does not suit you."

Ivan took the piece of paper handed to him. He had not started to think about a job yet, since his savings still covered most of the things he needed right now, but as the man said it would be good to have some sort of job and income, for various reasons.

"Thank you, I will think about it." Ivan later answered.

"Well then, my errand here is done. My number is in the drawer near the phone, if you have yet to find it. Just call me if you get any problem." The man took one last glance around the house, and then looked back at Ivan. "I hope you have a continued good day, Mr Ivan" he said while opening the front door and walked away.

It had gone one week since this young man moved into the house, and I have come to learn that his name was Ivan Braginsky. I guessed he were from somewhere around Russia because of his last name, but I had yet to prove my thoughts. He was a very quiet person, which I of course could have gotten wrong, I suppose you don't talk much if you are the only one in the house.

He had mostly been unpacking his things this week and almost done with that task except some boxes still standing in the hallway. Though right now he was sitting at the desk in the bedroom, the one with the windowsill, writing on a piece of paper. Or, more of trying to write on it, he had only managed to write one sentence during this whole week.

A sad look has been seen on his face every time he picked up the pencil to try to write more, a sad look staying there until he put down the pencil again. It had happen again now, and after a sigh he had turned his face toward the window. I turned my head in the same direction, looking at the magnificent maple tree outside. It sure was beautiful.

After a while I heard a knocking on the front door, and a while after Ivan also realized this and stood up to walk to the door, but not before hiding the paper he had tried to write on. I already knew who was standing outside, but the look on Ivan's face proved that he didn't know yet.

The eccentric man greeted Ivan after opening the front door and asking if he could come in. I could clearly see that the confusion on Ivan's face was far from disappearing for a while. The man stared into the hallway, past there I was standing. I have noticed that he tend to do that a lot when he visited this house, stare into nothing. Rather strange, but he turned his head back to talk with Ivan after a while. He asked Ivan if he had found any job since their, likely, last meeting. As I already had figured out, Ivan had yet to find a job and answered negatively.

When the man mentioned the small cafe, I could not prevent myself from feeling a bit sad. I don't know why, but somehow it felt like I... missed that place. A very confusing feeling, for obvious reasons I could not have been there.

I can't even leave the house.

Ivan was still standing by the front door, the piece of paper in his hand. He glanced at the clock hanging in the kitchen close to the hall. "Not that late, the cafe is probably still open." he said to himself. "I guess having a job wouldn't be that bad. It is not that... I would be found." It would be nice to see something else than the house, even though he just moved here.

He turned his head. Did it suddenly feel... colder? Like the house was...

...Sad?

The next day Ivan woke up early, he had called the cafe yesterday to ask if they were still searching for workers to help and had got a very cheerful yes from the, probably, owner of the cafe. All thoughts of the weird feelings he got from the house were forgotten, he only concentrated on getting ready and trying to get himself to remember to unpack the last things in the house when he comes home later that day. Feeling somewhat happy he left the house, took a deep breath of the slightly cold autumn air and started to walk the small way to the cafe near the station.

Not many were awake and outside there he walked, just some children out playing and some teenagers late for school. Also one person who was out walking her dog. Ivan liked this, he liked the calmness of the town and the mind of peace of the ones living there. Their respect of the yearning of silence and privacy, he really liked that.

Having the same mood of happiness in mind, he arrived at the destined point outside the cafe. Not much to the world, to be honest, but it had its own little charm to it. The front door had a small sign which said "Welcome!" with nice, white letters. Ivan opened the door and stepped in.

The cafe was small on the inside, but still had its special charm you could sense from the outside. Furniture with a nice tone of brown complimented with a soft, blue tablecloth on every table. A counter which displayed all what the cafe offered, everything from newly baked bread to extremely tasteful looking pastries.

At the counter a man stood and refilled the products, he glanced at Ivan a little bit then silently said "Haven't open yet". The man with few words had a stern look on his face. He seemed to be the age around Ivan and had pale, blonde hair and blue eyes behind a pair of glasses, he was also quite tall, Ivan rarely met people around the same height as him.

"I called yesterday, you needed more workers here?"

The man remained silent, but the stern look on his face eased a little. He silently knocked on the counters surface and a much smaller man peeked from one of the doors behind. The taller man nodded towards Ivan and continued refilling the products.

"Oh! You must be Mr. Braginsky, the one who called yesterday?" said the shorter man, clearly the one managing the talking around here. He had a similar shade of blonde but his eyes were brown and kind and it looked like his whole face was smiling. "I am Tino Väinämöinen, but you are free to call me Tino" the shorter man named Tino said, raising his right hand to shake Ivan's. "Ivan Braginsky, just call me Ivan." Ivan said, shaking Tino's hand, glancing a little over to the taller man.

"Berwald over there? Don't worry about him, he may be the person with the fewest words spoken you will ever meet but his baking is wonderful. I wouldn't be able to own this cafe if it weren't for his baking!"

Ivan noticed that the man known as Berwald slightly blushed from Tino's comment, which looked rather amusing since he still had that stern look on his face, Tino didn't seem to notice though.

"Oh, I am sorry, here I am standing talking the day away. You want to know what your tasks at this job are, don't you?" Tino then said, the bright smile still shown on his face. Since Ivan didn't say anything, Tino just assumed Ivan meant for him to continue. "Okay, what we need help with is mostly simple errands, other stores around the town orders from us from time to time and we need someone who can deliver it. I usually do it myself, but we have gotten much more customers lately and someone need to take care of them. There are also some stuff needed to be done around here at the cafe, if that wouldn't be to much?"

"Sounds okay to me, do you have anything I can do right now? No need in waiting I mean" Ivan responded, feeling that if he didn't Tino would never stop talking. Ivan wasn't used to people talking that much.

"Good to hear, we won't have anything to deliver until tomorrow. But you can help me with some boxes in the back of the store" Tino answered, sounded slightly relived for some reason. Ivan just nodded and followed Tino into the back of the store.

Ivan had left earlier this morning, to work at the cafe. I had tried to shake off the feeling of sadness when thinking about the cafe, but it didn't fully leave me. It was confusing and frustrating, it felt like I knew why I was missing the place but I couldn't put my finger on it. I tried to stop thinking about it.

It actually felt quite empty in the house when Ivan wasn't there, even though he had only lived here for a week. I guess even though you aren't there, you can get used to things – and humans. I had almost forgotten how it felt like having a someone living in the house, even though it wasn't that long ago since the person before had moved. A little weird that I had almost forgotten about him, he was such a loud person, and how could anyone forget his addiction to comic books – especially the ones including superheros of any sort. He was so much up into the clouds that he barely noticed anything here on the ground I guess.

I floated around in the house, like I had done countless of times before. Compared to the loudmouth living here before, I knew every millimeter of the house. I could see every little detail, every little perfected corner and every little fault and torn that only time can manage to create. I had seen this already, I recognized all of it, I knew everything in here already.

A new visitor made it easier to handle, the unchanging nature of this house. It was the only time there were something new to study, to learn to recognize in the house. This house, the most fitting description for it would be a prison. My prison.

I ended up in the room with the windowsill, or the room that Ivan was using as his bedroom. He had yet to put his special touch on the room, like the rest of the house. But this time you could at least sense there was someone living in the house, someone who for the moment wasn't here. The irritating feeling of frustration came over me again when the cafe once again came into my mind. Or, not really the cafe itself, the thought of knowing that there were people outside, a whole town outside.

A whole world outside.

It just gave me such a frustrating sorrow I could not come up with a single word to describe it. I clenched my fists, in a vague attempt to calm down my feelings. Suddenly, I tried to hit the window with both my fists to no luck. Feeling that solid nothingness that surrounds the house stopping any of my attempt to get out of here.

Did I really think that would do anything...

The day went by fast, Ivan thought, as he was walking the road back to the house, the sky already turned dark. He had helped Tino moving around boxes in the storeroom, something he first thought would be done rather fast but it showed being a much more time consuming task than he had imagined, they sure had lots of boxes in that cafe. Still, they had seem happy with him helping them and he could come back the next day to help with the delivery to some of the other stores Tino was talking about. Hopefully not as many boxes as today, Ivan though.

When Ivan walked around a corner, he almost got run over by a young boy riding a bike seeming to big for him. Ivan managed to step aside with no bigger problem and the young boy almost flew by, shouting a sorry after him. Ivan shrugged his shoulders, that boy will hurt himself if he don't slow down Ivan thought then continued walking towards the house.

"I'm back" Ivan said after he had opened the front door, for some reason he felt like a good thing to do, even though there are no one else in the house. He stood still for a while. The house almost felt... warm, like it was happy? Seems it was more cold outside than I thought, Ivan silently thought then closed the door behind him.

After a while of trying to think about other things, more so no things at all, I ended up standing by the desk in the bedroom. I noticed a piece of the paper slightly hidden under a book at the desk. Studying it more, I came to the conclusion that it was the letter Ivan had been writing on before he went to the cafe to work. Trying not to start to think about the cafe again, since it would only make the feelings come again, I looked at the letter which were simply laying there. For some second I though I had lost the ability to read but then I realized he had written in Russian, my stupidity actually cheered me up a little. But why did he hide it if he had written it in Russian anyway?

Suddenly I heard someone, or Ivan since I already knew who it was, opening the front door. I could not help but feeling happy, and almost hurried down to the front door. For what, I did not know.

"I'm back" Ivan said into the air.

"Welcome back" I answered, even though I of course knew he wouldn't hear me. I just felt like saying it, and for some reason the smile on my face wouldn't go away.

"_What did you think about Ivan then, Berwald?"_

"_He seemed okay. You seemed to be scared of him."_

"_W-why do you think that?"_

"_You shivered when you spoke."_

"_You always notice those things don't you? Yes, he felt kind of... intimidating at first but then I realized that it wasn't that I felt from him, it was like he...this is going to sound extremely weird but, like he was surrounded by...I don't know... like he was surrounded by..."_

"_Darkness."_

"_You felt it too?...well, I hope he is okay."_


End file.
